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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327568">Trapped in the dark, you found me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/det395/pseuds/det395'>det395</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Mostly happy tho, References to Depression</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:46:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/det395/pseuds/det395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Dan felt lucky to have Phil</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Trapped in the dark, you found me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thanks to phangelica for beta-ing!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i.</p><p> </p><p>“Wake up! Grab a brush and put— ‘n a little makeup!”</p><p> </p><p>Dan can hear how obnoxious his own laugh is, more of a shriek than anything. He’s not the only one because in his periphery he sees Martyn fall to the side and grab onto his stomach. Dan covers his mouth and nose with his hand and has to squeeze his eyes closed for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>He opens them quickly because he doesn’t want to miss this. Phil has his hand in a fist and is moving in a way that it looks like he’s going to start whipping his head up and down at any moment. Phil looks unsure of his own movements, his posture is bad and his hair is falling straight down into his eyes, but his smile is so wide as he reads the text running across the screen. </p><p> </p><p>It’s so loud in here, he wonders if the karaoke rooms on either side of them are listening to this sudden heavy metal overpower all the pop and hip-hop they’ve been hearing. The rooms aren’t as soundproofed as he’d hoped, but for £6 each and private stages, he’ll take it.</p><p> </p><p>“You wanted to! Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup!” Phil laughs at himself, squeezing his eyes together. He shifts to hold the microphone with both hands up too close to his mouth. Dan hears Cornelia snort quite spectacularly next to him.</p><p> </p><p>Phil was the only one refusing to sing a solo. Martyn must have repeated “it’s only us!” and “but it’s my birthday!” a dozen times, and they eventually all sat there and refused to sing in protest until Phil gave in. He grabbed the remote and grudgingly typed in a song code, but Dan could see the smile he was trying to hide. </p><p> </p><p>Dan leans forward on the table. It’s unsteady and all of their cocktails wobble dangerously but he keeps his eyes on Phil. This song isn’t particularly nostalgic for him but he can imagine Phil during a time before Dan ever knew him, with hair down the back of his neck and earphones in.</p><p> </p><p>“...I cry when angels deserve to…” Phil squeezes his eyes shut and smiles for only a moment before screeching, “DIE!” Dan drops his head to the table and laughs with his whole body.</p><p> </p><p>When he looks up again he leans his chin on his hands and smiles.</p><p> </p><p>It might not be nostalgic for him, but what he wouldn’t do to get inside Phil's head and feel every single emotion right now. To know if some of their teenage angst and catharsis matched up, mirrored each other, only distance and time apart. </p><p> </p><p>Phil keeps singing consistently off-key as he stumbles over the fast lyrics. Dan wants to keep this memory perfectly in his brain forever.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Phil breaks off of singing and yells, “Martyn!”</p><p> </p><p>Phil lunges at his brother and Dan catches a glimpse of the phone Martyn’s been hiding behind his thigh. Phil kneels on the bench and tries to wrestle it out of Martyn’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“No videos, you dickhead!” Phil chokes on his laughter and Martyn finally puts his phone face down on the table. He says something that Dan doesn’t hear but Phil laughs and goes back to the big TV to sing more.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s my emo little brother!” Martyn yells, picking up his beer and leaning into Cornelia.</p><p> </p><p>Phil finishes the song and crawls back on the bench to their overzealous applause with a flushed red face.</p><p> </p><p>Dan checks out his messy fringe then grabs Phil’s belt loop and tugs him a little bit closer.</p><p> </p><p>ii.</p><p> </p><p>He slows down as he reaches his block, before stilling completely at the front entrance.</p><p> </p><p>He has no idea what time it is, only that the streetlights came on forever-ago and that his thighs burn spectacularly. That burn is the only thing he can really feel. That, and the dry soreness in the back of his throat.</p><p> </p><p>He considers not going home. Sometimes as a teenager he’d go sit at a train station by the heater and wait for the morning, when his parents went to work and he could grab a glass of water and crawl in bed while the school left their landline voicemails.</p><p> </p><p>It’s childish to run away. They always said that. He doesn’t know what his parents thought they would accomplish by yelling. They could have listened instead. He might have told them about the ache he has to escape every single thing in the world much earlier.</p><p> </p><p>He forces himself towards the elevator because he’s tired and cold and doesn’t have the strength to do it anymore. Phil would help if he asked. It’s not the kind of burden he wants to give, though.</p><p> </p><p>The light is on in the apartment. Something catches in his throat and he stops, trying to prepare for what he’s going to say. He was gone for so long this time. Footsteps are coming towards him.</p><p> </p><p>“Dan!”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Phil steps in front of him, clad in bright pyjamas. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re awake,” Dan says.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell, Dan? Seriously?” Phil’s voice is high-pitched and uncharacteristically loud. </p><p> </p><p>Dan opens his mouth but nothing comes out, not with the sight of those red eyes in front of him. He’s done it again. Hurt everyone around him.</p><p> </p><p>“Take off your shoes,” Phil commands. He reaches past Dan’s shoulder and flips the deadbolt while Dan toes off his sneakers. His feet are sore and uncomfortably damp with sweat. He stares downwards so he doesn’t have to look at Phil but he feels that stab of guilt twisting inside of him anyway. A hand grabs his arm, so gentle it barely brushes Dan’s skin as it tugs him along.</p><p> </p><p>He’s in the kitchen now. <em> Their </em>kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want dinner?” Phil asks, voice so quiet it’s nearly a whisper. Dan shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Your wallet <em> and </em>your phone are here, so what? Did you go see someone?”</p><p> </p><p>Dan shakes his head again. He doesn’t know what Phil wants to hear, what he could even say now.</p><p> </p><p>“Just… you can be such an idiot, Dan, I don’t know why you…” Phil doesn’t finish, he puts his fist up against his forehead and Dan can see the slight tremble in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to leave?” Dan chokes out.</p><p> </p><p>“God. No. Dan. Listen to me, just, God.” Phil shakes his head and then pulls Dan in around his neck, tight enough that he’s well and truly choking him.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you eat some of the leftovers?” Phil mumbles into his head. Dan nods as best he can, crammed against Phil’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Go to the room, I’ll bring you food and tea, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Dan feels like the floor might swallow him up from below and that he will thank it when it does. He walks away, choking back his imminent tears. This life doesn’t feel particularly real right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Dan.” He stops at Phil’s voice and turns his ear back.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t just… don’t just run off like that, okay?” He hears Phil gulp. “I’ll come with you, or something. Just, don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Dan keeps walking quickly before tears can be seen because he doesn’t know if it’s a promise he can keep. Inside, though, he knows something needs to change. If he wants to keep this. If he wants to give himself a chance.</p><p> </p><p>iii.</p><p> </p><p>Dan stares into the mirror, past the splatter of toothpaste and water, right into his own eyes. </p><p> </p><p>He presses down on the foaming soap. <em> Phil’s </em> foaming soap. It smells like black cherry and he can’t believe he’s in Phil’s house right now, can’t believe he’s suddenly stepped into this world of green carpet and soft lips and good-smelling soap.</p><p> </p><p>His heart picks up speed at the thought. There are a few past hook-ups that make him want to smack himself in the head, thinking of the fumbles and missed cues and awkwardness and desperation. Others have been really, really good. None have had this kind of stake, the kind where any wrong move will punch through his heart that’s grown more attached than he will ever admit.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know how much he should freshen up right now. All he knows is he’ll probably do anything Phil wants to do.</p><p> </p><p>Dan trudges out of the bathroom before Phil thinks he’s got diarrhea or something. He turns right into Phil’s bedroom and smiles. It’s not Phil that scares him; it’s his own potential failure that makes his insides clench up.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello you,” Dan whispers. He crawls up in front of Phil on his bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Phil mutters, setting his phone down, and Dan leans in to kiss him before he can second-guess himself.</p><p> </p><p>It almost feels like too much. His brain seems to work in stages when he kisses Phil, first revelling in the feeling of hands and lips pulling him in, then the recognition of who exactly is right in front of him, and that attachment that no one ever needs to know about. His stomach clenches up tightly.</p><p> </p><p>Phil makes an “mm” sound and Dan stores that away for the books.</p><p> </p><p>God, if he loses Phil—</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Phil says against him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p> </p><p>Phil’s lips twitch. “This might sound weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” Dan looks to the side and back again.</p><p> </p><p>“When you kissed me… the first time and just now again, it’s like I could feel it in my stomach.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never felt that before, not really like that. It was like my stomach flipped over inside of me,” Phil says. He puts an arm over his stomach. </p><p> </p><p>“Not in a medical emergency way I hope?” Dan jokes. Except his body offers himself a twinge, one so strong he almost physically flinches. He gets a hand in the duvet cover and squeezes.</p><p> </p><p>Phil giggles, quickly bringing up a hand to cover his mouth, but his eyes show enough. He shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever felt that, like… flippy-over thing?” Phil asks. Dan thinks his eyes look a little wider than usual. Dan twists up the duvet in his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I get that with you,” he says and watches Phil beam at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Phil says, leaning in for a close-mouthed kiss before pulling back an inch and tilting his head. “Do you want to watch a movie? Something we can maybe be a bit distracted with?”</p><p> </p><p>Dan nods against him and realizes he feels just fine doing this. Capable, weightless, safe.</p><p> </p><p>iv.</p><p> </p><p>Phil is squeezing his eyes shut and shaking in laughter, looking flushed and a bit tense with all of the attention he’s getting from their crew around the table. Dan looks back and forth at those fond gazes. He knows it’s a feat to look at Phil smiling and not smile back, but everyone is rubbing him the wrong way today.</p><p> </p><p>Dan has told Phil repeatedly to stop trying to learn a new language five minutes before ordering food by listening to google translate on his phone. It’s why he keeps getting extra cheese instead of no cheese and plain old mysterious dishes and, in this case, shots of vodka with chaser instead of a simple vodka soda. </p><p> </p><p>Dan keeps a half-smile plastered on his face. It is funny, sure, but he can’t help but wish they had no guests out to this dinner of theirs.</p><p> </p><p>It’s probably rude to call them <em> guests, </em>even in his mind. These people are travelling the world with them, helping them create their livelihood, being damn good friends and it isn’t their fault that Dan’s brain decides to shrivel up with bitter feelings sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>“Down it fresher!” His brother says, too loud, too obnoxiously Northern.</p><p> </p><p>“I cannot just take a shot right now,” Phil says. He drinks some of his soda.</p><p> </p><p>Another voice invades Dan’s brain, one unfamiliar and a bit further away, laced with a Russian accent, and it prickles even more at the bad feeling in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Gotta experience that sweet nectar, you won’t feel a thing goin’ down. That shit’s premium, you’ll see.”</p><p> </p><p>Who the hell just yells at the next table in a restaurant? And why does it have to be such a hench guy?</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you want it?” Phil says back, leaning slightly over Dan to talk.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you can buy me one, promise I’ll get the next round,” the man says.</p><p> </p><p>Dan stares forward and huffs out a sigh, letting the smile slip into a glare at nothing. He wonders why the universe likes to torture him so much. </p><p> </p><p>Phil giggles awkwardly. “Uhh, I’d better enjoy my meal first, I’d be on the floor,” he says.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, I’ve seen what you Brits can take,” the man jokes and Dan wonders if it’s supposed to be so suggestive. “You tell me when you change your mind.”</p><p> </p><p>Dan doesn’t watch as Phil dumps half of the overflowing shot glass into his soda and takes a shot of the rest, letting out a dramatic groan in disgust. Everyone laughs and jokes and eventually they move on. Dan feels only half here.</p><p> </p><p>Phil leans close enough that their shoulders press together. “We’ll leave quickly after, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Dan barely nods. Phil knocks their feet together.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll give you a shoulder rub after if you want,” he says, and Dan bites back the bitter joke he has about strong Russian men. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he can redirect his moodiness to petty pride over how Phil is <em> his, </em>and all the ways Phil has proven it’ll stay that way, burly men be damned.</p><p> </p><p>v.</p><p> </p><p>Dan is watching with resigned fascination and horror, the kind where he can’t look away. He already knew some of what happens in <em> The Handmaid’s Tale </em> because idiots never know when to tag their spoilers, but it’s still making his jaw fall open slightly.</p><p> </p><p>He hears another noise and looks over. Down at the other end of the couch Phil has both hands covering most of his face, fingers spread apart to show wet, red eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Dan untangles one of his legs from his pretzel position and sticks his socked toe into Phil’s thigh. He raises his eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>Phil reaches forward and pauses the show. Dan can see the full mess of snot and tears now. It’s a sight he’s seen a fair number of times, especially in recent years, but he still feels a pang wondering if there’s something deeper, closer, that’s hurting Phil.</p><p> </p><p>“I just need a minute,” Phil says, leaning forward to grab a tissue.</p><p> </p><p>“Fucked up, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Phil breathes in a fast breath and Dan sees more tears fall as Phil clenches up his face. “I just… feel so bad for them, they… ugh. I don’t know if I can watch this. I’m, like, harrowed.”</p><p> </p><p>Dan knows he shouldn’t be smiling right now. </p><p> </p><p>His entire life might have been different if he’d seen a man cry openly as a child. Or be half as sensitive as Phil is.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s too real, that’s why. It’s horrible. I don’t know if I can watch.” Phil wipes roughly at his tear-stained cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Dan lifts one arm up. Phil crawls over immediately and rests his head above Dan’s collarbone, squeezing his torso tightly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://det395.tumblr.com/post/618855636749385728/trapped-in-the-dark-you-found-me">tumblr link</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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